Brought to you by the people who think pizza is a vegetable….
Setting: Two morbidly obese women riding motorized grocery carts in Kroger….
“I told him, go ahead and eat it all. When it’s gone it’s gone.”
“That’s right.”
“We ain’t gonna be snackin. I’m goin to the store to get groceries.”
“Yup.”
“Did we miss the candy aisle?”
It’s been a month since I bought my new car….
Dealership: This gonna sound real stupid, but where is the Volvo you traded in? Were we supposed to pick it up somewhere?
Yeah. Don’t call me when you don’t remember where you parked it.
My face is swollen with the anger of Mother Nature. My nose burns like I’ve snorted chlorinated pool water. My eyes are watering. I can’t stop sneezing. I’ve taken a diver bucket of medications, a mixture of prescription and non. I’ve taken a steamy shower. I’ve even given myself a sinus massage. But I’m still too miserable to sleep. At some point my body will give in on pure exhaustion. … I hope.
The things I’ve been dreaming lately are fairly violent and bizarre. I can only remember bits and pieces from last night. But I remember dangling from the under side of a helicopter as it dropped blood onto an impoverished, flooded city. The blood was tainted with what they were calling AIDS, but really it was worse than that because it killed quickly. It was turning the brown flood waters below me a sickly orange color. I don’t know what I was doing hanging onto the bottom of the helicopter, but as it came close to a building I remember having to jump off or I would die. And then I spent the rest of the dream trying to get out of the city without touching the rising flood water. It was like the Bog of Eternal Stench turned Bog of the Eternal Death.
I don’t even know where to begin with this crap. Does anyone else have jacked up dreams like this or is it just me? I dream stuff like this a couple times a week.
I have to be downtown for work in less than an hour. I’m still quite fused to my living room couch. I just don’t wanna move. Today is the sixth-straight day of work, which isn’t too horrible. Unless you factor in yesterday was the only day we had a full crew.
I need a break. And I don’t say that because I hate my job or don’t like to work. I say it because my eyelid twitch is back. If I don’t get some down time soon, I’m probably going to snap.
Kinda like this…
The Red Demon Beast Bitch is gone. It would be a lie if I didn’t say that it was a bit bittersweet … for like a hundredth of a second. Then I remembered all of the pain and agony she put me through, financially and mentally.
After I signed the title of the car over, the dealer asked me if they got a buyer for the RDBB if I would be willing to talk to them. I looked at him and said, “No, she’s your problem now.” And he just laughed and said he didn’t blame me. I can just imagine how that conversation would go down. I can do without any additional cursing and death threats in my life.
The 3 hours I sat at the dealership, I was not excited even though I was getting rid of the 7-year-old pain in my ass. The dealer kept saying, “Why aren’t you smiling? You’re getting a new car.” ”Why do you look so worried?” Because, ever since I realized that if my parents every really wanted to abandon me, all they’d have to do is wait for me to spend the night at a friend’s house, I’ve become quite proficient at manufacturing my own anxiety. Hell, I even developed a three-day eyelid twitch just trying to decide what kind of car I wanted.
But once the whole deal was over and I had the keys in my hand, I hugged the dealer. Hugged my car. And I may have even done a happy dance in the middle of the parking lot … in front of people.
If I pass you and smile and you don’t smile back, I make faces behind your back. Because, you’re a poop head. And if you actually give me a dirty look for trying to be pleasant, the faces may be accompanied by a hand gesture.
Perhaps I shouldn’t be so pissy about it. Maybe you have horrifying childhood memories. An orange-haired clown with a red, greasy smile that groped your mom when he thought no one was looking. Then again, it happens entirely too often and I don’t think party clowns are that popular. (For the above reason, naturally.) So my second guess, you just think you’re too damn awesome to engage in social pleasantries. If I take into account that it happens more often with women than men, I’m just left to believe you’re catty and intimidated by my awesomeness.
When I’ve had a bad day, my first instinct is to write about it to help work through the anger and frustration. But nobody wants to read that stuff. And I don’t want to be the “she bitches all the time” person. So I’ve just been sitting here staring at a blank box trying to figure out what to say.
I got nothin.
My brother relaying a conversation he had with our mom…
“Mom told me today that my life is boring. … I know, right. She was like, your sister has done more stuff than you. I said, Like what? She said, she’s gotten drunk and run into the ocean.”
I burst out laughing.
“I guess I just gotta get drunk and run into the Mississippi or somethin…”
Making moms proud since 1980. Don’t be jealous.
I argue so well with myself that I could probably be diagnosed as schizophrenic. This is why I seldom have these internal arguments out loud.
I’m under so much stress due to the Red Demon Beast Bitch parked outside. I feel like I’m playing a game of chicken with her. It’s not a her. It’s an it. You’re having an argument with an object and it’s absurd. Oh, she’s real alright and she can hear me and does shit just to spite me. Batshit crazy, you are. You know it’s true.
The RDBB is falling apart. She coaxes me into thinking that the last repair will suffice. That all is well. Then three months pass by … this much is true, I’ve got the records to prove it … and then she breaks down again. And it costs at least $500. I feel like I’m stuck on some sick carnival ride where I’ve got to decide between two doors, both leading to a shitty fate. Paying for a repair bill and not putting money into savings for a new car. Or saying eff it and buying a car before I have a down payment I’m comfortable with. For crying out loud, you have about a 20% downpayment right now, but it’s never enough for you. I’ve got every record of every thing I’ve ever had done to that car and I’m terrified to add it up. I’d probably have a rage attack.
I’m also afraid to pull the trigger. My luck with used cars has been so absurdly bad, I don’t trust my own judgement anymore. I’m actually thinking of getting a NEW new car just because it would have a warranty. Is this a crazy idea? Is a new new car worth it?
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